


Miss More Than Hit

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Protect and Survive [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e15 The Game, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mocking, Slice of Life, Swearing, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 02:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan Lorne's day is rapidly approaching "worst day in history" stage, and it's all Thomas Moore's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss More Than Hit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sgteam14283](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgteam14283/gifts).



> This one's for **sgteam14283** and takes place directly after S3's episode "The Game". I just watched it last night and when it came to the scene where Weir chews out Lorne and Zelenka, the Tom in my head was having a major (no pun intended) laughing fit and this is what came out of it (which is the reason why it's happening within the framework of _Protect and Survive_ / _Minor Characters_. A silly, pointless episode tag, but I hope you like it anyway :)

**Miss More Than Hit **

_“Well I know, I miss more than hit_  
 _With a face that was launched to sink_  
 _An’ I seldom feel, the bright relief_  
 _It's been the worst day since yesterday.”_

_Flogging Molly, “It’s Been The Worst Day Since Yesterday”_

  
So that really wasn’t his day. Not that he doesn’t know that feeling – ever since he started working at the SGC, he’s been having an alarming number of “not his days” – but yeah, epic takedown by his boss? That’s certainly a new one. Especially since Dr. Weir was _absolutely_ right with her lecture. If he’s really being honest, he _might_ have egged on Dr. Zelenka, a _little_ bit.

But yeah, at least no one aside from him and Dr. Zelenka was in that… _Why_ is Moore’s face glowing in a shade of purple bright enough that he can see even from the entrance to the mess hall that something’s wrong with the guy?

Okay, with Moore, there’s something _permanently_ and _irreversibly_ wrong, has always been that way but yeah… that color looks downright unhealthy. Frowning he makes his way over to the table Moore’s team is currently occupying – probably having dinner, since according to schedule, they must have gotten off their security duty shift some thirty minutes ago – and notices that Moore is shaking, too. The rest of his team looks mildly amused.

Alright, “Anyone mind telling me why Major Moore looks like he’s going to asphyxiate any minute?” And even before either of the others can answer, he realizes what’s going on. Moore is _laughing_ , so hard that all he can do is shake silently, only interrupted by a wheeze now and then. Reece looks like she’s about to answer anyway. He holds up his hand, feeling his frustration levels spiking up again. “Okay, never mind. For how long has he been like this?”

Honestly, that just can’t be healthy. Moore’s about to turn fucking _blue_ in the face, and Morsberg, his medic is just sitting by, looking absolutely unconcerned. He really hopes they all know what they’re doing here.

In the end, it’s once again Reece who proves to be the only actual grown-up in Moore’s team – he _swears_ that DeLisle might look all wizened up and everything but that he’s actually just as bad as Moore and Morsberg combined, given the chance – and calmly replies, “Since we got off our security duty shift thirty minutes ago, sir.”

 _No_ fucking way. “He’s been laughing like this for _thirty minutes_?”

Morsberg shrugs. “Give or take.” Sir. There’s a “sir” missing somewhere in there, and by now he’s _sure_ that the German is “forgetting” to add that on _purpose_ to mess with them.

But yeah, not the issue right now. He frowns. “Is that even physically possible, Doc?” Damn, he should have gone with “Captain”. “Doc” mildly annoys Morsberg but then again, the guy _is_ a doctor and according to his files, he’s been around American soldiers long enough to know that _every_ medic worth his salt gets called “Doc” by his troops. Captain, though, that _really_ pisses him off, what with his weird spleen of insisting that everyone call him by his unpronounceable special snowflake German Army Medical Corps rank.

Right now, Morsberg makes a face and a show of scratching his head and going, “Well, theoretically…”

“God, Lorne, honestly… you shoulda seen yourself.” Ah, look who can still talk.

If he only knew _what_ Moore was just rambling on about. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, annoyance levels spiking enough for it to show. “The fuck’s he even talking about?”

Reece… is she _blushing_? Of course she’s blushing, because even after everything, she’s still Maureen Reece and Maureen Reece never learned how not to blush under scrutiny. It’s nice to know that some things don’t change, after all. She clears her throat. “Uh, well…”

“Captain?” Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have gotten away with trying to intimidate a member of Moore’s team, most of all one he has known ever since she came to the SGC and he’s pretty sure that he’ll suffer for it next time he encounters her or Moore in the workout room but right now, _Moore is still laughing about him_.

Reece looks like she was about to wince but catches herself in the last moment and then settles for a bit of odd formality. “The, uh… altercation you had with Dr. Zelenka and Dr. Weir in the “game room”, I believe.”

Oh God. She even used air quotes. You couldn’t _see_ them but there’s no way a _linguist_ builds in two noticeable pauses at just the right moment. That’s one Marine who’s definitely been around Thomas Moore for far too long. Also, “There’s no way any of you could have seen that.”

“Access… security cameras…” Okay, that’s _enough_. Someone’s gotta make Moore stop or he’ll get himself killed right here in the middle of the mess hall just because he can’t stop _laughing_.

Aside from that, there’s also the small matter of, “You do _not_ have access to the security cameras!” At least not legally, anyway. He knows Moore well enough not to be not aware of the shit this guy can pull with a pair of USB cables and a PADD, he’s not _that_ stupid.

There’s a moment of silence and Reece, Morsberg and DeLisle also looking at him like he just lost it. _What_?

“I do when I’m on security duty.” Oh _now_ Moore can stop laughing? Now when he can show off and be actually _right_?

Because, as he just remembered, it was Moore’s turn heading up the security teams throughout the city and guess where the team responsible for that gets to spend most of their shift? _Exactly_. Jesus fucking Christ. “I swear to God…”

“Like a pair of goddamn schoolboys, holy _shit_ , Lorne.” They must have seen the entire thing from start to finish and he just provided Thomas Moore with a _ton_ of very valuable blackmail material. He’s _done_. “You are in _so_ much trouble, it’s unbelievable.”

Aaand there he goes again, laughing his ass off. He tries his patented glare that usually shuts up even the rowdiest Marines. “It’s not _funny_ , you moron.” Wait… that wasn’t just Moore’s breathless wheezing. That was _very_ much a tiny female sound, something like a barely swallowed giggle. He turns his glare towards Reece. “Captain? Did I just hear you…”

“I’m sorry, sir.” She very much is not. He didn’t even have to use his “scary XO powers” as Cadman sometimes likes to call them to know _that_. Reece looks _far_ too complacent for not inwardly laughing her ass off, too. “I know it’s not funny but…”

“It is, sir.” Great. DeLisle finally decided to chime in, too. And _of course_ he would jump to Reece’s rescue. That sergeant is the epitome of mother hen. And did he mention that he’s just as bad as Moore and Morsberg combined? “Just… a little bit.”

Alright. Fine. That’s it. That’s _enough_. “You’re all on graveyard shift, babysitter missions and KP duty for the rest of the fucking year.”

It’s an empty threat, and they know it – they’re one of the permanent go to teams for total clusterfucks, unfortunately – but he had to try, at least. Of course, he doesn’t even have a chance, as Morsberg’s way too polite “Totally worth it, sir,” proves.

Yeah, he bets it was. One in a million chance that the _one_ day he gets massive flak from Dr. Weir it’ll be _this_ team in charge of security so _of course_ it happens. That footage is worth at least _two_ years of only getting plum assignments, and everyone at this table knows it. Shit, this day is rapidly approaching “worst day in history” stage and he’s off his shift, anyway. He’s pretty sure that he still has an MRE energy bar or something in his quarters and since it can’t get any worse now, anyway, he doesn’t even mind foregoing real food in favor of just being left alone.

He’s out of here for good, so the last thing he does before turning around is simply growling, “Fuck you, Tom,” and then proceeding to walk the hell away from this entire clusterfuck.

“Just stick to Solitaire for the next couple months, sir!” Of _course_ Moore just couldn’t leave it alone, and this time, he’s not above simply rising his fist to flip Moore the bird without even turning around. Can’t get worse, anyway.

Or so he’d thought, right up until he’d arrived in his quarters, scrounged up a nearly expired energy bar, booted his laptop and is halfway through his e-mail and memo backlog when randomly fucking _Solitaire_ plops up and a message window across half his screen, saying, _You and Solitaire better get acquainted really well with each other, buddy_ , proving once again just how much damage a single guy equipped with the right tools can do to an innocent computer. He just _bets_ Moore didn’t even have to break into his quarters for that, just somehow managed to find some untraceable way or another to access his computer. He’s that kind of guy.

Worst day in history, indeed.

So, he thinks, clenching his jaw for a moment, staring at the offending deck of cards before he finally moves his ten of spades on the jack of hearts, maybe he just needs a break. A good, safe Solitaire break. Nothing wrong with that, is there? And really, how _much_ worse can it get, anyway?


End file.
